


The skirt is short on purpose, John

by consultinggalpals (sansa_undergrind)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crossdressing, Established Relationship, Jealous John, M/M, i mean super-duper jealous John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-02 01:58:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4041331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansa_undergrind/pseuds/consultinggalpals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock dresses in women clothing (for a case, obviously). John approves of Sherlock's decision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The skirt is short on purpose, John

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a prompt from [toxixpumpkin on tumblr](http://toxixpumpkin.tumblr.com/post/108022477839/ridiculous-sentence-prompts). The original one doesn't include John's name, but the moment I read it I could hear Sherlock saying the sentence, and of course he'd drawl out John's name as well.
> 
> This is my very first time writing these two, so please be lenient. I'm also not very good at writing smut so I finished it off before things got interesting - sorry about that! But I'm pretty sure that if you are in this fandom you can use your imagination and write the sequel in your head better than I could ever do.

Sure, John knew about Sherlock and his proclivity for using disguises when dealing with particularly complex cases. He had seen the fake beards, the makeup brushes, and the big tattered trench coats. He had never questioned them, not more than he did the casual bag of fingers in the freezer.

John also knew that Sherlock could be an excellent actor when he was so inclined. It was why he hesitated and double-checked almost everything that came out of Sherlock’s mouth, careful not to be bullshitted into another Baskerville situation.

What he did _not_ expect, was to see Sherlock in drag. What he _also_ did not expect, was the sudden stirring he felt in his nether regions when he looked up from his armchair and saw Sherlock step out of the bathroom wearing the shortest and tightest mini-skirt he ever did see.

“Stop gawping John, it’s not a look that suits you,” Sherlock drawled, striding leisurely into the room on shiny black pumps.

John snapped his mouth shut, but could not keep his eyes from dragging all over Sherlock’s long legs, ending pointedly at the bulge between them, before briskly turning, wide and confused, up to Sherlock’s face.

“Are you wearing makeup?”

“Of course I am, John,” Sherlock huffed. “You could barely call it a disguise otherwise.”

“No, I mean are you _actually_ wearing fake eyelashes?” John desperately tried to avoid looking at the lush red lips that were currently drawn in a tight irritated line. He cleared his throat. “Care to elaborate?”

“It’s for a case, John. I thought it would be obvious enough even for you that this is not my preferred attire.” Sherlock gave his blouse a tug and John’s eyebrow almost disappeared into his hairline when he noticed the padded bra underneath.

“Right. Okay,” John muttered. He shifted his weight on the armchair slightly, feeling his trousers starting to strain. “And is that your idea of ‘undercover’? Cause I’ve gotta tell you, looking like that you don’t really blend in.”

Sherlock paid him no mind, as he shrugged into his Belstaff. “You remember Mr. Hornstone, from Lestrade’s briefing on the London based counterfeiting ring. It was easy enough to track his online dating profile and he agreed to meet me later this evening at a club in Soho. He apparently has a… preference, for crossdressing.” Sherlock concluded, as if nothing could be more natural than putting on unbelievably close-fitting women’s clothing to catch a criminal.

John crossed his arms. “You’re telling me you’re going on a _date_ with this Hornstone bloke.”

“Hardly,” Sherlock half-shrugged, indifferently. “He will offer to buy me drinks while I gather information about the illegal mint he’s running in his basement.”

“And is there a place for me in this plan of yours or am I supposed to not wait up?” John tried really hard to stop his burgeoning jealousy from tainting the tone of his voice, but Sherlock’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly nonetheless.

“If you can promise not to cause a scene…”

“Of course I bloody well can, you tit,” John replied a bit too quickly and, okay, maybe it would be harder than usual to restrain himself. He was admittedly not too keen on the idea of some sleazy mobster hitting on Sherlock, especially when he decided to go out looking like _that_.

John sighed deeply and stood up. Reaching for his own jacket, he followed at Sherlock’s clicking heels.

***

Sherlock had decided that arriving at the club together would look suspicious, so John agreed to take a different cab and meet him there. When John walked through the door, he got an earful of a certain Aerosmith song and couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

John threw a quick glance around the room and took in the young, carefree people occupying it. He felt positively ancient and instantly wished to be back in Baker Street, falling asleep in front of the telly while Sherlock prattled on about the countless inaccuracies of whatever program would be on.

Instead there he was, dodging sweaty, drunk youngsters on his way to the bar. If he were to survive this evening without busting somebody’s head in, he needed a drink. Or multiple.

Leaning against the bar, he shouted his order into the pink-haired girl’s ear. While he waited for his pint, he let his gaze wander once again, looking for dark curls and a bright red mini-skirt. He gave an unamused snort when he located the detective, sitting in a booth with a portly man in his late forties.

John was instantly mesmerised by Sherlock’s demeanour, which could only be classified as flirty. He was tilting his head, letting his curls bounce around his face while a hand lightly stroke the soft skin behind his ear. The skirt was impossibly tight, so he let his legs cross at the ankle under the table, careful to keep his lean thighs touching. The other man, that Hornstone fellow, John assumed, was leaning in slightly to whisper something in Sherlock’s ear, as one of his hands wandered above his knee.

Thankfully, John had been given a hard plastic cup, otherwise he would have found himself covered in beer as his hand clenched tight around his drink.

The minutes dragged on, Sherlock and Hornstone getting progressively more intimate as John looked on, fuming.

Suddenly, Sherlock stood up, excusing himself to the other man and making his way towards the loo. As he passed John, he gave him a pointed look and asked him to follow with a tilt of his head.

John did not hesitate and set off, shouldering people more roughly than was strictly necessary. He got to the toilet – a private one, not a set of stalls, thankfully – and slammed the door after himself.

Sherlock stood in front of the mirror, taking the fake eyelashes off. He barely lifted an eyebrow at John’s belligerence.

“I have gathered enough information to put Hornstone behind bars for a very long time,” he said casually. “I’ve already sent Lestrade a recording of our conversation and they’re sending a squad to conclude the arrest as we speak.”

John said nothing, standing with his back against the door and his arms crossed.

“Hornstone made a terribly crass mistake, thinking it wise to expose the origin of his wealth to someone he had only just met in hope of obtaining sexual favours.”

John winced and tightened the grip on his upper arms.

“I even managed to pickpocket his wallet and send a picture of his credit cards and fake notes to Lestrade without him realising.”

“Was that before or after you let his hands take a short trip to your arse?” John hadn’t meant it to come out as snappish, but there was no stopping the tidal wave of jealousy now.

Sherlock’s brow furrowed, confusion spreading across his features.

“You’re upset.” It wasn’t a question, but John gave a curt nod nonetheless.

“You think I was actually enjoying his company.” Sherlock strode closer to John, invading his personal space and pinning him against the door with the sheer force of his stare.

John’s mouth was suddenly very, _very_ dry and he could feel heat rising up to his cheeks and ears.

“Yeah, well you did put on a very convincing show,” he managed to gasp into Sherlock’s blouse, inches away from his nose.

Sherlock reached behind John’s back, turning the lock on the door.

“But that’s all it was,” Sherlock rumbled deep, his mouth a breath away from John’s ear. “A show.”

Carefully, Sherlock loosened the iron grip of John’s fingers, placing them on Sherlock’s hips instead.

“You can’t possibly believe I would have let that man anywhere near my privates.” Sherlock’s lips brushed against John’s ear, nuzzling and mouthing kisses on the soft skin.

John shivered and tightened his grip on Sherlock’s hips, feeling the smooth fabric of the skirt under his fingertips.

Sherlock drew John closer, one hand reaching up to cup his nape and tilt his head upwards. John met Sherlock’s lips hungrily, pouring his jealousy and frustration into the kiss. He nibbled at Sherlock’s lower lip, forcing his mouth to open unceremoniously. Sherlock moaned softly as he let John’s tongue slide inside.

John’s hands were everywhere, reaching around to grasp at Sherlock’s bum and finding their way just below the skirt’s hem. When he touched lace he froze for half a heartbeat, before pulling Sherlock closer, grinding against the front of his skirt.

“God, you’re wearing ladies knickers.” John had left Sherlock’s mouth for his neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses along its alabaster length.

“Obviously,” Sherlock murmured. “None of my regular underpants would have fit under such a tight garment.”

“I need to see them Sherlock. Take that bloody thing off.”

“The skirt is short on purpose, John.” John could hear rather than see Sherlock’s smirk. “Do your worst.”

And John did.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @ [consultinggalpals](http://consultinggalpals.tumblr.com)


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